


Creepy Fortress 2

by Galionne



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Animal Death, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Creepypasta, Horror, Monsters, Murder, Mystery, Nuclear Warfare, Spiders, Suicide, epidemic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galionne/pseuds/Galionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of creepypastas, urban legends and other scary stories rewritten with Team Fortress 2 characters. Rating may change depending on which creepypastas will be rewritten. If you have any good spooky stories you'd like to see rewritten, feel free to submit it to me!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1. The Children Upstairs

**Author's Note:**

> Original Creepypasta: The Children Upstairs (http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/The_Children_Upstairs)  
> A bit of a sloppy rewrite, but next ones should be better.

My name is Travish. Travish DeGroot. I used to live in the South-East part of Teufort in a small flat not far away from the downtown. I say ‘lived’, because I moved out a month ago to live at my Mum’s again. My flat was a nice place but… I can’t go back there anymore –not that I would want to ever again…

It was somewhere during May; I had decided to take a week off. Since I lived alone I spent most of my time lazing around on the couch comfortably. I remember one morning; watching TV absentmindedly when I heard heavy stamping noises and children’s voices from above me. It sounded like they had two kids up there. The place where I lived was a large apartment block but the neighbors were usually very quiet; the children’s voices, therefore, echoed loudly in contrast to the ambient quietness. But I didn’t feel annoyed. I always found it eerie when the silence became too overwhelming.

The next day, I wasn’t motivated to cook anything so I decided to order some pizza. They arrived in barely 30 minutes. Feeling really hungry I had ordered two of them; but in the end it turned to be too much for me and I left one untouched, still hot pizza. I figured I could probably just keep it for dinner, before I remembered the two kids upstairs and decided to take it to them. After all, eating only pizza for the day wasn’t too healthy.

I’d seen the occupants once or twice maybe: a family of four; a married couple and their two adopted kids. I rang the doorbell and heard something stir inside, but there was no answer. I rang the bell again and felt as if someone was looking at me through the peephole. “Who is it?” A faint voice called out from behind the door.

I said I was from the room below and had some pizza left from my lunch, and wondered if they wanted it. The door opened a little. It looked unusually dark inside the room. The gap was just a few inches wide and a young man with a light blue balaclava appeared, revealing only half of his face. “Thank you very much. But we don’t want it,” the man said coldly. It was a little too dark to discern his facial expression. I suddenly felt a bit weird and out of place, like I shouldn’t be there; but I still tried to explain that I wanted to give the pizza to the children.

A lukewarm air breezed out of the door. I remember finding it… Unpleasant, and fetid. In an instant two children’s faces lined up below the man’s face. The door was still open just a little. The dull eyes of the children stared at me. The three faces were forming a line.

“I see…. then… I will accept your kindness.” The man said. When I put the pizza box through the gap a hand reached out right from the side and snatched it away.

The three faces were still staring at me. “Thank you…..” I heard the faint voice again. I quickly left the place. I felt utterly spooked. In the corner of my mind I could just feel something was wrong. The image of the children’s faces still stuck with me. Faces….. I felt a chill run down my spine. Faces…They were forming a line… I began to walk faster. I needed to get away as fast as I could. I waited for the elevator but it simply wouldn’t arrive. Forming a line…Vertically…On top of each other….. I began hammering the button with my thumb, but the lift still did not come. I turned to the emergency stairs. My head was throbbing with pain and I was beginning to feel nauseous.

Just when I opened the heavy door leading to the emergency stairs, I felt eyes on my back. I turned around and saw, a few feet away, the same three faces looking at me from the corner of the corridor. Like before, they were showing only the half of their faces and staring at me with their dull, empty eyes. The cold day light shining through the windows illuminated their faces.

I almost screamed and ran down the emergency stairs. I was so terrified; I felt as if I would never reach the ground floor. Faces lined up, on top of each other…That was impossible…That meant there were…No bodies……And the strange things I saw behind the faces were…Hands…..Holding up the heads……

I ran into the nearest convenience store; busting through the door and begged the people there to call the police.

The police came, and searched the flat - and found the bodies of the man with the blue balaclava and the two children in the bath tub. _Headless_.

Apparently it had been a full three days since the heads had been chopped off the bodies.

And the husband, a young Australian man who turned out to be the murderer, was found hiding in the wardrobe – completely insane. He cried and insisted his family was still alive. He screamed and thrashed and yelled and shouted helplessly as the cops dragged him out of the apartment.

As they shoved them into the police car, I saw the terror in his eyes.

The terror.

I moved out not long after.

I don’t want to go there, ever again.


	2. Self Preservation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Creepypasta: Self Preservation (http://www.creepypasta.com/self-preservation/)

If you’re reading this, then I am hopefully long gone.

It’s been… two months now since the meteor struck Mississippi. I remember there was a lot of public interest in it, astrologers and the like all gathering around for a look. They took samples of the rock and shipped them all over the world to museums in every country. Even here, at RED, where we fought armies of robots and insane wizards daily we were pretty amazed and all wanted to make the trip to take a look. If it wasn’t for Grey Mann sending us a bunch of robots the same day, we probably would have, actually. And we would have all been dead. Three days later, after the initial hype died down, the news reported nothing on the meteor for a couple of days.

The next thing I heard about it was when the team and I had returned to the base after a long day of fighting the BLUs. We went into the rec room and turned on the late-night news. We were just in time to catch a breaking news article. The reporter-guy was pale and looked worried. He informed the audience that almost everyone who had been in the vicinity of Mississippi when the meteor went down had been hospitalized. Their symptoms were similar to those that a corpse experiences during decomposition. Ten people had already died, mostly the elderly and the very young. Scientists and geneticists from all over the world were working frantically to try and find a cure. By then we were all looking at each other baffled and confused, except for Medic who was glued to the screen. We all agreed we were going to gather supplies and start preparing for an epidemic.

The news the next day had a lighter tone. A group of scientists had worked out that the meteor had contained an alien strain of bacteria that slowly broke down flesh tissue. They also remarked that the bacteria were only affecting humans. They had worked out that if a victim consumed a living being, like an insect for example, it would delay the progression of the bacteria and give the scientists more time to find a permanent cure. Anyone who thought they may be infected was told to eat as many live creatures as they could. Medic kept laughing and commenting how absurd that sounded, rolling his eyes and sighing. The reporter also explained that the US Army was attempting to contain the infection.

They failed.

The bacteria passed through the air, but to catch it, you had to be near someone infected. Because the symptoms took between three to five days to kick in, people often didn’t realise that they were infected. In a week, Victus Somes Disease, as it had been named, became a global epidemic.

For the team members still here we barricaded ourselves inside the base, with towels and blankets stuffed into every crack. Sniper had locked himself in his van with food and water supplies as well as his riffle. Soldier had returned to Merasmus’ castle. I figured it was probably the safest place for him, at first. Here in the base we had the TV tuned to the news all day and night. The scientists hadn’t predicted that the bacteria would adapt to the infected people’s efforts at trying to keep it at bay. Victims all over the world were claiming the insects were no longer working. People were starting to catch small mammals like mice and rats and eat them alive.

As the days went by, people were slowly eating larger and larger animals. The first reported case of cannibalism was the last broadcast made. The reporter-guy’s hair was falling out and he was missing three teeth. He nervously told America that there had been a reported case of cannibalism in Southern Europe. He also said that there would be no further broadcasts. All survivors were to lock themselves in their house and not let anyone in.

We thought the base was safe.

We were so, so wrong...

Sniper was the first to get infected. I remember him knocking on the door saying he had something to show us and me naively opening. He immediately pounced on me and tried to bite my arms and neck before I was able to shove him off. He was missing several fingers and teeth and his breathing was… Ragged and uneasy. “Come on mate; just one bite to stay alive… You’d do this for a friend, right? You’d do this for a friend?” He began crawling towards me before I heard running footsteps and a loud _bang_. Medic shot him without second thought before handing me the shotgun. I looked up at him terrified before he told me “Don’t feel pity for the infected, or it will be your downfall.” I quickly figured he was right. He used a broom stick to push Sniper’s dead body outside of the base before closing and locking the door. He claimed you were ‘never careful enough’.

Three days later, he was the next one infected. Just as Sniper, he went violent and tried to bite us but Pyro and Demoman managed to lock him outside. After that he kept trying to break in; banging on the door and all the windows which –luckily- were thick and solid enough to not break or pop out of they’re frames. It stopped after a few days and by then, we knew he was dead.

Two days later, I saw Soldier walk by outside. He was holding that weird ram skull Merasmus always wore on his head and looked… Normal. No signs of decomposition; all ten fingers and walking calmly. Without hesitation I knocked on my window and managed to catch his attention. I waved at him; signed for him to come over but he shook his head sadly. He opened his mouth slowly; revealing yellowed teeth and blackened gums –one tooth fell out leaving a bloody line of saliva on his lips. I lowered my head and backed away from the window a bit. I pointed at the ram skull in his arms, but he shook his head sadly again. We waited a few more seconds just looking at each other before he finally gave me the military salute and headed forth. I knew where he was going. In that direction maybe a mile away was a very deep ravine.

A suicide hotspot.

Now that I think of it, he was probably the most human of all of us.

As the days went by everyone was delving more and more into insanity. Pyro began coughing up blood one day and Spy immediately shot them straight through the head with little to no hesitation. Heavy also became infected at some point. He managed to corner Engineer in his own room and just… _Dismembered_ him one limb after the other to feed on his flesh. We heard him scream and cry for help but the door to his room was locked. We knew he was doomed. Demoman and I barricaded the door from outside to trap Heavy inside the room. With nothing to eat, he died after a few days. After that I gathered some food and water supplies to sustain myself for several days and locked myself into my own room.

Now… I suppose I should explain why I’m writing this.

I’m infected.

Yesterday I coughed and lost a canine. Just like Soldier. I spent the night pulling out my teeth, getting them out one by one. It didn’t hurt one bit; they just slid out, like pulling up carrots. Anyway, as I was saying, I’m infected. Eating insects doesn’t work, and all the wild animals have long since run away. For all I know, Spy and Demoman are still alive. I’m gonna try and lure one of them into my room. It sounds so wrong writing that out, but I don’t want to die. And I’m so hungry.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.


	3. Rabbits in the Creek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Creepypasta: Rabbits in the Creek (http://www.creepypasta.com/rabbits-creek/)  
> Here we go; my favorite Creepypasta with some of my favorite TF2 characters thrown in as well! If you have a Creepypasta suggestion feel free to ask me!

I’m writing this because my family won’t talk about it anymore. I’m the only one who can’t seem to forget.

I was raised on the outskirts of Preston, a small town in southern Idaho with a small population. My more immediate community was an isolated, dead-end dirt road called Bear Creek. Less than twenty families lived there. I lived with my Ma and my 8 older brothers but since we were so isolated, she didn’t mind me running off into the woods as long as I came home before nightfall.

We were a very small community. We all knew each other; everyone watched over everyone’s kids; we all trusted each other... Really, we were all very close. We had 4th of July parties at the local ballpark and swam in the nearby reservoir. It was a good, quiet community.

My house was an old farmhouse apparently built by my great-great-grandfather and was situated on a small hill surrounded by a wide grass field on one side, and a snaking dirt road on the other. Across the road was the creek bottom. Southern Idaho being categorized in a desert climate, it’s not surprising to see that not much grows outside of the irrigated fields besides sage brush and burrs. The creek bottoms were the only exception. The creek fed the growth of a thick tangle of pussy-willow bushes. In the late fall my brothers and I used to go down into the bottoms and pick the white, cottony pussy-willow seeds to decorate the fences of our driveway.

Being so isolated, it wasn’t uncommon for animals to come down from the mountains. We had a female moose who brought her calf down and lived in our orchard every winter. And the occasional mountain lion wasn’t unheard of either.

The summer when I turned eight, a smaller mountain lion was spotted several times in our area. But we weren’t worried. The big cats usually stayed away from the farms and would just move to another area if they couldn’t find enough food.

The same summer my neighbor and best friend, Jane Doe, was working on one of his newest project. He was about four or five years older than me and absolutely loved animals and the surrounding wildlife in the creek. The poor guy… He used to live in the big city, you know, before both of his parents were killed in a really bad car crash when he was six. Having no family in the city, he was taken in by the only relative he still had and who turned out to live here. I couldn’t really tell if it was his uncle or his grandfather or… Whoever. But ‘Merasmus’ (as everyone referred to him) took great care of Jane, so it didn’t really matter.

As I said earlier, he really loved animals and the young lion that happened to be in our area at the same time hadn’t failed to capture all of his attention. He had decided he wanted to try and get pictures of it for a photo album he was making about the wildlife of Bear Creek. He knew how to do this and had bought all of the equipment he needed off of internet.

He later explained his plan to me: he was going to set up an automatic camera that would take shots every couple of seconds in an area the lion was known to visit. He said he would also have to set some kind of bait to make sure the lion would come by. No one in the creek liked the idea of live bait or carrion, so he came up with a different kind of bait.

He decided to set up an audio recording of a dying rabbit and play it on a loop through a set of speakers hidden in the willows. I remember when we were down in the bottom testing the equipment, and I heard the noise for the first time. It was horrible. I could only describe it as identical to the sound of a screaming child. It made me feel sick in the stomach.

The camera was set up. The speakers were set up. Everything was perfect. Jane explained that he would allow the camera and recording to play uninterrupted for a week, and then he would go check on it. This would give time for our scent to fade from the bottoms and encourage the lion to come closer.

At first I was worried about the noise. It was a truly horrible noise, and our house was the closest to the set-up point in the bottoms. My oldest brother Michael assured me that the noise wouldn’t reach as far as our house, and I was relieved when we arrived home that night and he was correct. The bottoms were far enough away that I couldn’t hear anything.

I remember Jane the next day when I came to play with him in the woods behind his house. He was all jumpy and impatient to check on the equipment. But he had to wait a week, which Merasmus kept reminding him of. He couldn’t risk going down too early and scaring the lion away for good.

That night, I woke up to an awful noise. I sat straight up in my bed with my eyes wide in the dark, hands clutched so tight my knuckles went white. I knew that noise. I _knew it_. It was the recording of the rabbit. It sounded faint, and far off, as if it really was coming from the bottoms. But that was impossible. Because the recording had been going all night the previous day and I hadn’t heard a thing.

I didn’t sleep at all that night. I was too scared to get out of bed and wake up Ma. The recording played over and over again. Even when I tried to cover my ears, I still heard the loop in my head. In the morning I stumbled into the kitchen for breakfast. My Ma and my brothers Thomas, Alex and Steven were sitting at the kitchen table. They too had dark rings under their eyes. I hadn’t been the only one hearing it.

Ma was convinced that the equipment must have been broken, or had malfunctioned. She wanted to go down into the bottoms to check it out but Michael told her it was a bad idea. He said it might mess up the setting and cause some unnecessary drama, and Ma ended up agreeing with him. He was sure there had been a strong wind last night, and the wind was carrying the noise farther than its natural reach. He told us to listen. We did. He was right, we couldn’t hear it now.

We forgot about it and went on about the day.

But the next night, it happened again. I stayed up in bed with my back to the wall. The screaming was even louder than before. But this time something was different. It was lower pitched than I remember. And parts of the loop were slowed down, as if the recording was warped in places. At times the loop did not loop normally and instead picked up at a random place in the middle.

Ma didn’t mention anything at the breakfast table. But her and my brothers seemed tense…

The third night I somehow found the courage to stand beside my bedroom window and look out into the yard. For a moment I stood, motionless with my hands shaking no matter how hard I clenched them. The noise seemed to pour in through the cracks in the window. I watched the outline of the trees in the yard. They were perfectly still, and not even the slightest breeze stirred their branches…

My Ma announced that she would be going to visit my aunts in town the next day, and would probably spend a few nights there. She told me I could either come along with her, or that I could stay with my brothers. I chose to stay at home in the end so I could be there when Jane retrieved the camera and the pictures. That night, as I expected, I heard the screams again.

And as expected, I didn’t sleep at all.

We began to hear the noise during the day, too. I was drawing with chalk on the sidewalk with Jane and a few other friends when it happened. My shoulders tensed and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. There was only one scream. A short, high pitched one. And then the recording fell silent. It happened again several times throughout the day, but it was never the whole loop; just bits from it.

Later that evening Merasmus walked up our driveway and knocked on our door. He said he was looking for ‘Lieutenant Bites’, Jane’s pet raccoon who had been missing since that morning. Michael said he was sorry, and that we hadn’t seen him. I stared at him, silently begging him to mention the recording. But he didn’t. He was a quiet old man after all. He didn’t want to bring up any unnecessary drama.

Ma stayed away the whole week, in the end. I hardly slept at all and neither did my brothers. By Saturday the screaming could be heard constantly, though now it sounded completely different from the original loop. I didn’t recognize any of it. Sometimes the screams were thin and long, other times they were hardly more than growls. Once, while Michael had been heating up a meat loaf for lunch, the noise rose into such a terrifying howl that he dropped the plate and it shattered. I pressed my hands over my ears where I sat at the table and squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t help. The noise forced its way in through between my fingers and pinched my throat and rattled in my ribcage. It lasted for a whole minute, and then fell silent.

Michael was shaking and I think Alex and I were on the brink of crying. That was the last we heard of the noise that day.

Jane came by Saturday evening to ask permission to cross our road to collect the equipment. I asked if he wanted me to go with him but he declined my offer. He was so excited. I watched him disappear into the creek bottoms with a sense of tired relief. After the equipment was gone, it would all stop. I couldn’t wait to get a full night’s sleep.

Not a minute later I spotted Jane coming back up from the creek. I was confused. It had taken us much longer to set up the camera and speakers, so I had assumed it would take just as long to collect them. My breath stilled when Jane came closer. He didn’t look right. His eyes were wide and his face as white as a sheet. Something wet was dribbling from his chin and onto his shirt and I quickly realized it was vomit. And he was crying, too. He walked up to me on shaky legs before collapsing right in front of me into a sobbing mess. I called my brothers over and we tried asking him what had happened but it was no use.

Jane couldn’t speak. He just cried.

My brother immediately called Merasmus and I looked after Jane as Michael and Steven went into the bottoms with the old man. They were gone for a really long time. When they returned, their faces were grim. And they smelled funny. I noticed red on Steven’s hands. I asked what was wrong but they walked right passed me and immediately called the police.

Merasmus had taken Jane away and nobody would tell me what had happened. I sat on the couch as all our neighbors and groups of police officers swirled around me. At one point an officer placed something on the kitchen table and left. I looked into the kitchen curiously. It was Jane’s camera.

I wish I hadn’t looked.

It was a little bit damaged. Tiny scratches and dents covered the plastic casing. When I lifted it my hands stuck to it a little. Something sticky and smelly covered the screen, but it turned on fine.

The first set of photos was normal. Just the dense bushes and the moonlit sky in the background. However as I continued to click through them they quickly became strange. At one point the camera angle changed, as if it had been knocked from its post. Grass now obscured most of the frame. Flecks of red appeared on the lens and remained for the rest of the sets. One photo made me pause.

There was a figure in this one. Or half of a figure as most of the upper torso hadn’t made it into the frame. It looked human; it _was_ human I knew it because it wore thick leather boots and torn black clothes but it looked… Odd. Its legs were extremely thin and white, like bones, and it seemed to be having difficulty supporting itself. Beside the legs a long, thin arm hung with a thick leather glove covering the hand. Whatever it was must have been stooped over, for its fingers hung below its crooked knees.

The next set was different. It was as if the camera had been picked up, and was now being held. The first photo was of the creek bottoms at night. The next startled me. I had to look closely before understanding what it was. A rabbit had been laid in the bushes, but it was headless with bits of flesh and nerves hanging from the severed neck. The next was of the same rabbit, but a gloved hand was holding it up against the sky. Its limp body hung like something from a nightmare.

In the following photos more rabbits joined the first one, all missing they’re heads. Then a cat. Then more cats. Then a raccoon with a small, cut up leather collar adorned with a small tag that read ' _Lieutenant Bites_ ' lying next to it.Then the lion. The following photo was of seven rabbits, three cats, the raccoon and the lion all laid out in a row facing the same way. Their arms and legs had been arranged as if they were marching. Like some… Nightmarish parade straight out of hell. All of their heads had been removed and bits of their spines could be seen between the blood and rotting flesh.

The last photo was overly bright, like the photo had been taken too close with the flash on. An eye dominated the frame, but it was yellow and full of fire on an odd orange face. In the bottom corner the edge of a mouth could be seen. No lips. It looked like it had been literally _carved_ into the face; not unlike how one would carve a pumpkin for Halloween.

I wish I hadn’t looked.

I heard Michael talking to the police outside. They said the speakers had malfunctioned. The recording had only played the first night.


	4. I thought I ate a spider in my Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Creepypasta: I thought I ate a spider in my sleep (http://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/2c9v6b/so_i_thought_i_ate_a_spider_in_my_sleep/)

I remembered that half-awake moment of confusion very vividly. I groaned, blinked, and moved my mouth around as I blearily stared up at the dark ceiling. There was some sort of weird hair or something on my lip… pulling at it, I felt a subtle slippery tug in my throat, and it took another three seconds to slide the whole thread out.

Disgusted and confused, I held it up to the sliver of moonlight coming in through my van’s window. What the hell was this thing? Some unknown girl's hair? No – I’d been working at RED’s for months now and the only company I’d had was that of 17 other men; all of whom had short hair. Besides it was wispier than that, more reflective, and a little stickier…

I suddenly felt a bit distressed as the thought occurred to me that this was probably a silken spider thread. Had I just eaten a spider in my sleep? Jesus christ!

I got up that night, refusing to go back to sleep, but the day's light dispelled my silly fears. If I _had_ eaten a spider, it was long dead by now thanks to the stomach acid generously donated by my night-long anxiety.

A few weeks passed, and I mostly forgot about the incident.

I noticed that, very slowly, I began having trouble following the rest of the team around on the battlefield. I was sleeping worse, and groggy even when I did sleep. I thought that it might just be the season, or allergies, and I tried to ignore it… until I fell asleep _during combat_ in my sniper nest, and my team basically dragged me to the medbay after we lost.

I didn’t really trust Medic, but I was… Tired of being tired, so I accepted my fate and the threat of a medical examination.

I sat on the examination table for quite a while. I figured the doc probably wouldn't have any answers for me - he never seemed to care enough to pursue individual mysteries - but I _was_ hoping for a prescription or something.

I sat still as he did all the usual tests - blood pressure, pulse, and so on. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

He left, and I waited some more.

Finally, he walked back in and began asking about my symptoms, nodded a bit, and then used a stethoscope to listen to my chest.

That's when he frowned. "It might be allergies, or even asthma. It ounds a bit scratchy in there." He said with that thick German accent of his.

"That's what I thought," I told him. "I've been wracking my brain. Hell, for awhile, I even thought it was a spider I ate."

He glanced up at me, making eye contact for the first time. "You ate a spider?"

"In my sleep, I think."

He hesitated. "There's this new spider infestation. African, I think. I heard there has been a few bad reactions to bites already. I can’t tell for sure, but if it bit your esophagus or stomach, you wouldn't feel it, but you could still have a reaction. Let's get a soft tissue scan done."

Confused and worried, but hopeful, I followed him into another part of the medbay and into the imaging room.

I'd seen it on television, sure, but the experience was far more intense than it looked. I had to lie still for quite some time, fighting all sorts of sudden urges to itch, sneeze, or cough while I waited. By the time it was over, I felt a built-up coughing fit coming on.

Medic smiled, told me I did a great job, and started checking things. Alright, I sighed. It was over. Time to get up and get out of here -

His smile faded and he immediately returned in the other. I found myself alone for a handful of minutes.

I sat up as I heard him going through papers and mumbling to himself.

He finally approached me. "I am going to need you to come with me for a moment. It's not an emergency; I just need to speak to you in private."

Feeling hot from my approaching coughing fit, I followed him to a small room, where he directed me to sit and handed me a biohazard waste bin.

"I want you to close your eyes and cough into this trashcan, **ja**?" he told me, his tone quavering. "And whatever you do, keep your eyes closed. It's important that you don't look, for, um - radiological reasons - from the imaging machine."

"Yeah, the machine…" I mumbled.

His masked fear was creeping me out, but I was more than ready to start coughing to ease the pain in my throat. Leaning over the waste bin, I began a heavy, hacking cough, letting out endless choking breaths that seemed filled with weird dust and particulates. Had I accidentally breathed in something radioactive from the machine?

I kept coughing. I tasted a little blood. I paused. I breathed in and out. He urged me to keep coughing, his voices shaking and subtly disgusted.

"Come on, just a little more **Herr** Sniper," he encouraged me. His practiced hands trembled on my shoulder.

The last cough seemed to spasm my whole body, and I felt clotted particulates rise up my throat and finally escape. Spitting and pushing more air out through my mouth, I got the last of it out of me.

Feeling much better, I made the mistake of relaxing - and opening my eyes.

Medic saw me staring down, and gripped my shoulders tight. "Don't panic. You're safe now. It's just that… Since you thought you swallowed a spider I looked at your stomach, but it was fine. The problem wasn't… Well, they're attracted to moving air, you see… **und** it had made webs, and laid eggs… thousands of eggs… in your lungs."

In shock, I nodded, unable to do anything but stare at the three-inch-thick pile of baby spiders roiling around in the bottom of the waste bin.


	5. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Creepypasta: The Talk (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Haqp_OkL5g)

**Original Creepypasta: The Talk**

**…**

“Where am I?”

“Easy Doctor.”

“Mikhail? W-Why can’t I see?”

“There was car crash, you don’t remember?”

“What? What do you mean a car crash?”

“You don’t remember Mikhail and Doctor going north to other base?”

“My mind feels a bit blurry, tell me what happened.”

“We received letter few days ago to tell us we had to go to other base in Coldfront. We got into Doctor’s van and drove, and then had accident.”

“Wait… if we were in an accident, are you alright?”

“Yes, you took most of impact. Hospital doctors said that you have head fractures. That is why you have a bandage over your eyes. Anyway, we were driving, and you swerved and went out of road and we crashed.”

“My van, is my van ok?”

“A bit bumped, but van should be okay.”

“Why can’t I move?”

“You were thrashing, so doctors thought it was better to strap you down.”

“So wait, I think I’m starting to remember a little. We crashed into the woods right? How did I end up in a hospital?”

“I used radio to call the base, and they called hospital.”

“Alright, but if we were in the middle of nowhere, how did you have service?”

“Radio just worked. That’s not the point; you are going to be alright now.”

“ **Ja** , I suppose you’re right, thank you Mikhail.”

“You’re welcome Doctor, you don’t need to worry.”

“Who are you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your name isn’t Mikhail, its Misha.”

“I must just be… tired.”

“And you called me Doctor; Misha has always called me Medic or Hans ever since we met each other, and not only that, I drive an ambulance not a van.”

“Doctor is confused; must rest.”

“I want a _real_ doctor in here!”

“Sorry, I’m the only one here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’re not technically in a hospital.”

“Wh-where are we?”

“My house, it’s not far from where you crashed.”

“What did you do to Misha?!”

“Well I was hoping you’d just believe me and would go to sleep, but nope too smart for your own good.”

“What did you do!?”

“You wouldn’t believe how long I spent trying to perfect his voice; I guess I should’ve spent longer on practical information.”

“MISHA!?”

“Oh don’t bother screaming, how can he hear you if he doesn’t have a head?”

“ **Schweinhund** , I’ll _kill you_!”

[Sharpening Sounds]

“Here’s what really happened. You and your friend were driving, obviously not paying attention. I threw some road kill out in front of your zmbulance, and you swerved into the ditch. You were knocked unconscious; your loud mouth friend was difficult. Refusing to give in, until I told him you were alright.”

“Fuck You.”

“He said the same thing to me right before I severed his head. You really shouldn’t have travelled at night.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Well I burned through all my food for the winter; I need to stock back up.”

“So if you’re just going to kill me, why do I have a heart monitor?”

“Well I’ve come to determine that living flesh keeps better then dead flesh.”


	6. The Thing That Stalks the Fields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Creepypasta: The Thing That Stalks the Fields (http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/The_Thing_That_Stalks_the_Fields)

It started a few weeks ago. The rest of the team had left for a special mission given to us by the Administrator; but someone still had to stay here to protect our base, just in case. Being a bit sick at the time, I agreed to stay and set up a few sentries for safety. I didn’t do much after that; just roamed around and spent time with my cat Hazy whom I was allowed to keep in my room. I took long walks outside with her and nothing happened for the first week. But then, little by little, I could see the sentries slowly creep away from the base. Every morning when I woke up, each had moved a few feet from where it was before. I assumed it was probably some Teufort citizens feeling brave enough to mess with me, and I so I ignored it. Within a few days, though, the sentries began to approach the boundaries of the base. I was tired of the whole game by then, and decided to move them back. It took a tedious hour to bring them all from where they were to over near the base again, and by the time I was done I was ready to snap the neck of whoever had decided to screw with me.

The next morning, I found Hazy gutted and messily decapitated. The smell was what woke me up. She was left on the porch with blood and guts splattered all over the door and cold stone. There were no signs of her head. I spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess and burying the remains. It was only when I was done that I noticed the sentries had all returned to their positions from the day before, placed just at the edge of the base. This time I left them where they were.

That night I sat on outside on the porch with my shotgun in hand and a pot of coffee next to me. I sat for hours, straining my eyes into the darkness to catch a glimpse of the motherfucker who had killed my cat and kept moving my sentries. Finally, I was beginning to nod off. I would have, but just as my eyes began to close I heard slow footsteps coming from far away. I leaned forward, my heart racing with excitement; I was going to catch the bastard. I fumbled with my gun and fidgeted in my seat, waiting anxiously for whoever it was to get close enough to ambush. It was only when the thing got close enough for me to make out its silhouette in the dark that I was frozen still. The thing that crept into the base limits from the nearby woods didn’t seem to notice me sitting there. It stalked, hunched and deliberate between the buildings with the posture of a tiptoeing thief. If not for the fact that it must have towered to over ten feet tall even in its crouched position, it might have seemed almost frail. The thinness of its arms and legs and the emaciated, caved-in quality of its chest reminded me of a starving animal. Still, this thing was undeniably strong, and I watched it hoist each _level 3_ sentries up into its arms with ease, and set it down carefully a while away, taking only a few strides to cover the distance. I watched it work, moving each sentry thoughtfully. Every once in a while it would straighten up to look around at the other sentries’ positions in the field, before adjusting the one it was working on ever so slightly.

Before it left, it looked towards the house. I felt its eyes sweep over me in the dark, but whether it saw me or not I couldn’t tell. Then, it turned silently and crept back the way it came, disappearing into the dark of the woods. It took me an hour before I had the courage to move at all. I went inside after a while, but didn’t sleep that night. It was only when the sun rose that I dared step off my porch into the base. The sentries were where it left them. Strangely, it didn’t move them as far as it had in the previous days. They were approaching something invisible it seemed, and as I looked at them I realized that they seemed to be marking some line. Indeed, as I walked around the base, I saw the distinct circle that they formed with the main building at the center. With _me_ at the center. At first I thought the sentries were just being haphazardly moved away from the building, but now I could see that they were instead being moved towards some boundary. The thing was sending me a message. I slept uneasily that night, and only because I was exhausted.

The next morning the sentries hadn’t moved at all. They didn’t move at all for the rest of that week, in fact. They were finally where the thing wanted them. I made myself sick trying to interpret them. Why would this thing expend so much energy moving my sentries, and threaten me with such violence should I try to interfere? Killing Hazy was just that – a threat. An intelligent threat, at that. It knew what would scare me, and it knew that I would understand the implications.

The sound of an automobile working its way along the road to the main building one morning gave me a little rush of excitement. I’d been planning to abandon the base since I saw the thing, but I couldn’t hope to leave on foot without risking it treating me like it treated my cat. But, if I could get in the car with whoever was coming my way, I might be able to escape before it could stop me. As they approached slowly I realized it was Soldier driving his jeep with Scout in the passenger seat, waving at me. I decided that the moment they stopped the car, I would jump in the backseat and tell them to get the hell out of here. I didn’t get the chance.

The jeep worked its way slowly along the road, trundling across the uneven ground. I urged it silently to hurry. It was when it passed between the two sentries placed on either side of the road that I began to hear a booming clatter from the woods. The thing burst suddenly from between the trees, sprinting on all four of its terrible, gangly limbs towards the car. Within a few seconds it was there, pouncing on the jeep like a predatory cat. Within moments it was picking and peeling the vehicle’s steel frame apart, working to get at the driver. Soldier and Scout both screamed all the while and I could hear them even over the crunching of metal and the shattering of glass. It was only when the thing crushed Scout carelessly in its hand and dug its long, dirty black claws into Soldier’s chest that the screaming stopped. It tossed them away, and straightened up to look at me once again. In the sunlight, I could see the inhumanity of it. It was composed entirely of something awful and alive which was lashed together in a messy semblance of a human form. Whatever it was made of looked so polished and hard, that if it weren’t for the minute writhing of the stuff, I’d think it was made of granite.

The thing retreated back into the woods, and I was left to my shock. My eyes wandered to where the car sat, the engine still sputtering, between two of the hay sentries. Suddenly, I understood. The message was clear. I am this thing’s captive, and I am not allowed visitors. Nothing may cross the borders it has set. I’m trapped here, by the thing that stalks our base, and it demands nothing except that I never leave. Still, I don’t know if I can handle being that thing’s canary. I’ve been thinking hard for the last few days since I saw it pierce Soldier’s chest, and silence him before he could finish his scream. If I crossed the sentry border, it’d probably do the same. It’d smash my skull before I could put my hands up to protect myself. It’d go and find a new pet, and probably keep looking until it found someone who could stand knowing that it was waiting just outside, watching it at all hours with its shiny, insect eyes.

I’ve been thinking hard for the last few days, and I might just make a run for it.


	7. Psychic Ability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Creepypasta: Psychic Ability (http://crappierpasta.tumblr.com/post/43350939560)

It started one morning when I was sitting in the mess hall. I was busy cleaning my butterfly-knife and invisibility watch when I noticed Pyro sitting in a corner of the large room, surrounded by stuffed toys and muttering to himself as our colleagues passed by. It wasn’t something to unusual, except for the fact he had pushed up his gasmask to reveal his mouth- something I had never seen him doing before.

Heavy passed by at some point and I distinctly heard him say, “Pig.” 

‘ _What ?_ ’, I thought to myself. Had I heard right? Had he just insulted Misha; one of the friendliest and most caring member of the team for absolutly _no reason at all_? What was _wrong_ with him?!

Then Medic went by and the pyromaniac muttered, “Human.”

Human? I can’t argue with that. Obviously, despite his rather questionable activities he was human.

The next day, I was ready for combat much earlier than usual and had some time to kill, so I decided to sit at a table much closer to Pyro and listen to his strange mutterings.

As Scout passed in front of him he muttered, “Cow.”

Cow? I thought. No, he was much too skinny to be a cow. He looked more like a turkey or a chicken to me.

A minute or so later, Soldier walked past in a hurry and Pyro said, “Potato.”

Potato? I thought he was giving people animal names...

That day, during battle, I couldn’t stop thinking about Pyro and his puzzling behavior. Well; he had _always had_ a puzzling behavior but this was even more unsettling than usual. I kept trying to find some logic or pattern in what he was muttering.

Being the somewhat superstitious man I’d always been I began wondering if perhaps he had some kind of psychic ability. Maybe he knew what our colleagues were in a previous life. Coming from Pyro, I would not have been surprised.

I observed him many times and began to think my theory was right. I often heard him calling people things like “Rabbit” or “Onion” or “Sheep” or “Tomato”.

One day, curiosity got the better of me and I decided to ask him what was going on.

As I walked up to him, he looked at me and said “Bread.”

I laughed a little and sat next to him before asking what was going on. I told him I had been observing him for a few days now and that his behavior puzzled me a little, then asked if he did indeed have psychic ability of some sort.

He nodded his head slowly and said, “Yes… I do…”

He paused.

“But… It’s not… Useful…”

“Alright but; please; tell me what it is exactly.” I begged eagerly.

“I can tell… The last thing somebody ate.” he said.

I laughed because I realized he was right. He said “Bread.” The last thing I had eaten for breakfast that day was toast. I walked away shaking my head. Of all the psychic abilities someone could have, that one must be the most useless.

It was only a few days ago, when I remembered this story from the beginning, did I realize something was horribly wrong.


	8. Canned Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Creepypasta: Canned Food (http://www.creepypasta.org/creepypasta/canned-food)  
> Not so creepy and really short, but I thought the story fitted Soldeir quite well.

I ran straight to the super market when I heard about the nuclear strike. The government said that a deadly disease was spreading in Teufort and its surroundings, and that they were going to eliminate anyone who had it. Luckily I had a bomb shelter built under my house –like any good American citizen should- so I could hide. When I got to the store, almost all of the canned foods were gone. In fact, almost _everything_ was gone. I grabbed all of the cans I could find and ran outside to my car, before I realized: there would never be enough to keep myself _and_ my raccoon army alive in my bunker.

Wondering what I could do, the nuclear strike being imminent, I saw a woman –I recognized her as the loud-mouth brat Scout's mother- loading a van with food cans. She had enough to survive _for years_ , I thought. I ran to her and asked if I could have some of the cans. "I'm sorry, I have a lot more people to feed at home, I can't spare any." She told me.

Walking back to my car defeated and worried sick about my fate, I stepped on something. I looked down to see it was an old, rusty screwdriver. And I got an idea. I bent down, picked it up, and looked toward Scout's mother, still loading the van with the canned foods. I _needed_ that food. So, I walked over to her. "I'm sorry!" She said to me again. "I can't spare an-" she was cut off by the screwdriver being stabbed into her abdomen and blood rushing to her mouth.

" _I'm_ sorry…" I said as she looked at me with a look of pure horror on her face. I let her fall on the ground and pushed her aside. I shut the hatch on the back of the van, jumped in, and drove back to my house. In the street, there were people begging me to let me in the van. The nuclear bomb would hit soon, and there was no room, so I kept driving. When they started trying to block the van, I only accelerated. I don't know; don't _care_ how many people I ran over.

I jumped out of the van, panicked and distressed, and started unpacking the cans into the bomb shelter as fast as humanly possible. It took about an hour to unpack everything and get my raccoons into the bunker and by the time I got all of it done, I saw the planes. I ran into the bomb shelter and closed the heavy steel door just in time to hear an extremely loud explosion as my raccoons screeched in fear. The ground trembled fursiously for severeal minutes as the walls shook, lifting clouds and clouds of old dust. Then, it all went silent and I knew it was over. It was probably going to be a few months till the radiation cleared up, so all I could do now was wait. I hadn't even had time to call my family or even Merasmus to see if he was still around… Hell; maybe he could've provided me with some food and I wouldn't have been forced to kill Scout's mother! The poor woman… I felt a bit sorry for her; b-but I had no choice! As I pushed the thoughts away I saw Lieutenant Bites beginning to nibble on the top of a tin can.

"Are you hungry Lieutenant?" I asked smiling.

I gave him a pat on the head and picked up the can. That's when I realized I left the can opener in my house.


	9. He Hunts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Creepypasta: He Hunts (http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/He_Hunts)

Four months ago, a few other members of the team and myself had been moved to another base. Our employer had apparently learned that the BLUs had were conducting some sort of experiment in the area and wanted to have a small team there. So there we were; Heavy, Soldier, Pyro, Spy and myself, Demoman.

Hanging Man Forest, western part of Teufort is where we had to stay. We weren’t allowed to go home until we’d found something about the BLU and their experiment.

Nothing happened at first; we couldn’t find anything and the BLUs never manifested themselves, but then everything changed, and it wasn’t for the better. Oh god, it was horrifying, I’m alone now... It… it GOT them and I’m sure I’m next. So to whoever reads this story… I hope you never stay here… It will get you too.

These are my final thoughts and my horrific story…

It all started when Pyro went outside to play with her box of matches one day and didn’t return for almost an hour. I still hear her scream sometimes, that earsplitting cry of terror, and Soldier and Heavy flashing looks of extreme terror before breezing through the door.

They came back, glistening blood on their pants and shoes... Pale and shaking. They had found nothing left of her but a few bone splinters, her ripped fire suit, and a puddle of blood. Things were never the same after that day. Spy never really spoke again after seeing her remains.

The next person to go was Heavy. Our food was running low and we were snowed in, so we couldn’t go to town. He grabbed his shotgun and took to the wilderness around us. He didn’t come back when we expected him to. Soldier and I decided that we would go search for him in the morning; that there was no need to go out then. The lad had been raised in Siberia; if he was lost in the forest he could sure as hell survive alone until morning.

Around one A.M. I was sitting in my quarters beginning to doze off, when there was a low guttural growl from outside… Then a resounding ‘ _BANG! BANG! BANG!’_ on the front door, and then a loud thump.

A flash of a mottled black furred creature on two hind legs sprinted past my window… That set me off. I let out a loud yell until Soldier ran to me and asked what was happening. I recounted the story to him, and he grabbed a gun and handed me one, then motioned silently towards the door. He made me open it. I cracked it open very slowly and heard him gasped in fear.

It was Heavy… or what was left. His corpse was mangled to extreme lengths… Arms were gone, eyes were gouged out, and he was covered in claw marks that dripped thick red blood onto the cold snow. Soldier turned pale white and slowly shut the door, trembling like I’d never seen him do before. No one left the base anymore. Spy still never spoke, he would only weakly nod or shake his head to communicate, if even that. Soldier would break down at anything that reminded him of our deceased teammates. But what I realized was that whatever that… Thing… Was, it wasn’t stopping until it had killed all of us. I knew it.

A few weeks had passed, we lived in fear. Some nights we would hear those horrid growls, and we would make sure no one fell asleep that night... Instead we would stay up with guns in hand until daybreak. One morning after a long night of paranoia, Soldier proclaimed that he was taking supplies, and heading away to town. “Freedom or death,” he said. "One of them happens today."

He offered to take us with him, I pleaded with him not to go, but he insisted. I told him I would not go; Spy just shook his head quietly. He said he would send for help when he got to town and to keep everything locked “Don't you dare leave, don’t you dare even think about leaving!” he said. I know he was a lot more stubborn than me, but I felt awful about him being the one who was going out. I knew it was going to get him, I knew…

That night, he walked out just before dark fully struck, having made sure we were safe and had supplies, and began the nightmarish walk to our truck. He got to the vehicle, and opened the half frozen door after a few violent tugs on the handle. It was then that I heard the sound that unnerved me on the spot.

He turned the key and as the car started a bloodcurdling scream filled the night air. The beast left the trees from the side opposite Soldier. The creature must have been almost 8 feet tall with a mangled black wolf's face and body, but walked on its own two legs… Or rather sprinted.

Soldier jumped in fear and smashed his foot onto the gas pedal. The… Thing pounced onto the truck and violently smashed his window, Soldier steered wildly trying to get away from the creature but he crashed the truck smashed into a tree, and if that hadn’t killed him, the beast reached into the car and pulled the still squirming body out of the truck. The creature looked right at me through the window from a distance… Before slicing open Soldier’s stomach with razor sharp claws.

Blood dripped from his body and he went limp. The creature walked slowly towards the door… I knew he wanted me to fear him; he knew I was frozen. It reached the door and I hugged my rifle tight. There was a thud and another three bangs, although they went slowly this time. _Bang… Bang… Bang_ Then it screamed its chilling scream, like that of a banshee and stampeded off to the woods. I didn’t dare open the door to retrieve my friend’s remains.

I haven’t slept since then; I just watch the door and listen for him, waiting for him to come back. It's just me and Spy now. He doesn’t eat or sleep or drink, he hasn’t moved from his chair in three days. Until his death, I don't think he ever moved again actually. It was a long night.

Four days without sleep. I've heard the growls every night since Soldier’s grisly demise. But tonight, they were louder…It was tonight... He would attack, I knew it. I loaded my shotgun and waited for it thinking he would come through the door or the window in the kitchen. I was wrong. Spy sat in the other room, doing nothing but starring at the ground before him. I figured it was better to leave him there and let him be.

It was late when I began to hear a scraping along the house sides. Four times he circled- we were trapped, and he knew it. It stopped and my heartbeat quickened, as if in slow motion I realized where he stopped just a moment too late… Right next to the side of the house where Spy was. I knew my fears were true when I heard the disheartening sound of the window shattering in the other room.

I was rooted, I heard the beast's call and dropped to my knees… I saw him walk to Spy and in one stroke took his throat… And within a heartbeat his chest… He screamed and dove from the room… This was just a few short hours ago… the scrapings are starting again… to whomever finds this, Leave quick… Don’t look back… Oh god the scraping stopped…

I don’t have long. These have been my final thoughts, and the last ones I’ll ever have… please heed this warni


	10. Please don't fear the Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Creepypasta: Please don't fear the Reaper (http://www.reddit.com/r/shortscarystories/comments/3ad348/please_dont_fear_the_reaper/)

It's been ten months since it happened.

Death just....stopped. We weren’t dying anymore.

On the surface that sounded fantastic; after all it made it sound like we were just like Merasmus; immortals! But there is a difference between him, and us: death isn’t something he is ever supposed to meet anyway. We, on the other hand, have always been supposed to, but stopped.

As a Medic, my job is to take care of and heal the members of my team. And believe me, this small difference has made my work shift quite significantly.

Sure, it seems great when the Spy with lung cancer comes in my infirmary, complaining of chest pain. Clinically, he is dead from a heart attack. But aside from some discomfort, he can still be sent home to his family during his furlough. They get more time together.

But that's the best case scenario.

Two weeks ago, a Pyro from the other team chased down one of our Scouts and burned his body so badly the flesh was just falling off of his bones. Today, I have a torso and not much else locked in a supply closet because all he can do is scream and flail. No eyes, no tongue, no limbs to communicate with. I don't know what to do with him.

After that ‘incident’, I retreated to my isolated office, popped open my flask, and downed a significant amount of pills. I rested my elbows on the table, feeling the pounding of my pulse in my temples as I tried my best to cope.

And that's the kind of thing my job has become. I am more ‘Engineer’ than Medic. People come in with damaged parts, and I try to make them functional again.

A Demoman comes in after being pushed off a cliff by an enemy Soldier. More than 60 percent of his bones are broken, shattered. There is no way to set them to get to where they will function again. In the old world he would have passed. Today, his blind mother takes him home, to lay in a bed for eternity.

More pills. More booze. More pounding temples.

Medbays are overflowed and many of my colleagues have quit their jobs. It has become quite common to see the streets infested with wounded warriors laying on the side of the road, or in dumpsters, or actually buried alive, as their families are unable to cope with the concept of caring for an invalid body for eternity.

More pills. More booze. My health declines.

Yesterday, a normal Engineer came in, complaining of difficulty breathing. Upon exam, I found out that he had suffered a massive stroke the night before. Again, before, he would have passed. Now he had to deal with all his automatic bodily functions shutting down, and the task of having to take them over consciously. His pain was from forcing air into his lungs where before his body did it for him.

More pills. More booze. I don't feel well. My temples absolutely hammer.

Today, a Heavy was decapitated. Now I have to figure out what to do with a talking and breathing head.

In my office, drunk and high as usual, I rub my temples, feeling stillness under my fingertips.

My eyes snap open. _Shit_.


	11. The Quantum Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Creepypasta: The Quantum Man (http://www.creepypasta.org/creepypasta/the-quantum-man)

Pyro sat back in the chair after affixing the final electrodes to his skull. He is currently sitting in the medbay containing the most expensive and advanced technologies in all of the TF industry’s history and today was the fruition of his team’s Medic, and many others, efforts. The aim of the project was to open a human beings mind and allow them to perceive one of the spatial dimensions above the mediocre three we already know about.

The actual result was still a point of contestation, but it was suspected that the individual would be able to study all possible universes that could be created from his actions, and then choose the one that he wished to follow. A man whose every action would be perfect as he had already witnessed the results.

Medic had asked Pyro to be his test subject as, since he was already known to hallucinate often the sudden visions wouldn’t unsettle him as much as it might have for other individuals. Besides he was both young unlike the rest of the team _as well as_ obedient; unlike Scout. He gave the final thumbs up to the German behind the safety glass, and he activated the first stages of the machine. A microphone in the room relayed his words as the process started.

“If I have seen farther than others, it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants.” Pyro didn’t quite understand what that meant, but he just shrugged it off as Medic’s usual nonsense.

The chair reclined back until it became a flat table, and a large rotating dome lowered down to encompass his entire body. Within the dome, there was a complex crystalline structure lining the inside. He focused on the facets of the crystals, and noticed that they had started to morph, shifting in ways his mind just could not understand. He started to feel light-headed and dizzy.

His sight was suddenly filled with explosions of light, and his body started to spasm. Reading his health signs in the control room, Medic instantly halted the operation. He ran in to check the vitals of Pyro, and was pleased to find a weak, yet consistent heartbeat.

Pyro opened his eyes a couple of minutes later. He looked up at the doctor and suddenly jerked up as he realized where he was.

“What happened? I don’t feel any different…..” he mumbled quietly.

The doctor smiled and patted him on the shoulder

“Any landing you can walk away from, right?”

The doctor turned to walk away, caught his ankle on a trailing cable, tripped forwards, and cracked his forehead against the corner of the table. His head twisted to a sickening angle…

**RESET**

The doctor turned to walk away, caught his ankle on a trailing cable and tripped forwards before being grabbed from behind as Pyro threw himself from the chair, stopping him inches from the table corner.

Pyro collapsed and threw up. His hands shaking, he realized that he had just perceived two universes and had actively chosen the one he wanted. He smiled at the doctor.

“I did it! I can see them …I can see them all……”

Pyro’s smile faded.

He now saw two new universes, both the same as far as he was aware. Suddenly, a third, a fourth, a fifth blossomed in his mind. He could suddenly see all of the possibilities that he was capable of, some he didn’t wish to see. His mind began to fracture.

Pyro grabbed the Medic and in an act of unnatural rage plunged his thumbs into the German’s eyes…

**RESET**

Pyro looked despairingly into the eyes of the Medic and started to scream, refusing to stop even when bubbles of blood foamed around the corners of his mouth…..

**RESET**

Pyro grabbed the table leg and forcefully headbutted the corner, only achieving his goal of shattering his skull on the fourth strike……..

**RESET**

Pyro sat on the floor experiencing all the potential evil that he was physically capable of. His body shook as he was racked by sobs of horror. He grabbed the doctor by the collar and drew him face to face.

“TOO FAR!!! TOO FAR!!!” he screamed

His eyes blurred for a second, then started to turn yellow and shriveled. At the same moment his hair changed to the purest white. Pyro in his final moments became aware of a magnitude of universes bearing down on him, and he would have to live through every single one. His grip slipped and his mind was lost to the abyss.

**RESET**


	12. To new friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Creepypasta: To new friends (http://www.creepypasta.com/to-new-friends/)

Heavy looked down at the small toy, unsure what to do with it. It was a doll, that of an infant only a few months old. The eyes were open, the lashes pronounced, and the pink paint which vaguely resembled human skin peeled from the plastic features of its face. He couldn’t really tell what had drawn him to it, but he found it odd that such a thing should be sitting upright, its dress disheveled and dirtied, left behind only to be crushed by passing cars. A toy which at one time would have meant a great deal to a child.

Picking it up, its limbs dangled like a puppet without a master, held together loosely by thread sewn into a cotton body. It was then that he heard a rattle, something inside the doll. Quickly he realized that the noise was coming from the head, from behind the eyes, as something moved around tapping against the plastic which surrounded it.

He saw no one on the street, and so without thinking tore the doll open, breaking the head off, ripping it from its cotton shoulders. Peering into the now decapitated head, he could see what had been making the noise. A tooth, human or otherwise, slipped into his hand from the open neck.

‘She used to be my friend’, a voice said.

Looking up he saw a young girl in a green dress standing before him, pointing to the broken doll in his hand.

‘She won’t be happy with you now’, she said nervously.

‘Why?’, Heavy asked.

‘Would you be happy if someone tore off your head?’

‘Is just a doll’, he said, pushing the head and body together. ‘Heavy can fix her for you, if you want?’

‘No, I don’t like playing with her’.

The girl then walked past him, continuing down the street. Looking at the broken doll in his hands, the eyes vacant, Heavy began to feel strangely nervous.

‘Why don’t you like her?’, he shouted.

In response, the child stopped and turned round to look at him from afar, before replying: ‘She steals things’. It was then that she smiled, revealing a toothless grin. ‘She’s your friend now’. And with that the little girl disappeared into a garden nearby.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


End file.
